One Baby Daddy (Dating by Numbers #3)(104)
His sharp stare stays on me when I ever so slowly bring my teeth down on his finger, lightly dragging them to the tip along with my lips. When my mouth pops off, I lick around my lips and smile at him.
For a moment, we stand there, staring at each other, our eyes locked, our bodies breathing together in time, heavy and deep, our chests rising and falling.
“Tell me no.” He lets go of the bowl and takes a step toward me.
Eyes wide, delicious chocolate on my tongue, my body humming for one touch, one taste, my lips stay sealed.
Taking another step forward, closing me in against the counter, he repeats himself, gripping my cheek. “Tell me no.”
I know I should. I set ground rules. I told him we were over. I said we were just going to be friends, but for the life of me, I can’t get myself to tell him no.
I can’t utter the words. Instead, my hand grips one of the belt loops of his pants and pulls him in the last inch. Growling like a caveman, he bends at the waist and effortlessly scoops me into his arms only to usher me past the kitchen, living room, and down a hallway. With a push of his foot, he opens the door to his bedroom. The ten-foot ceilings give the room a heavenly feel along with the all-white bedding and giant California king.
Just when I think he’s about to toss me in the bed, he gives it a second thought and gently sets me down, going down to his knees in front of me. Reaching behind him, he grips the back of his shirt and pulls it forward over his head revealing his expertly chiseled body.
God, how could I forget what he looks like without a shirt? This image should be burned in my mind, on constant replay, like a screensaver on my phone, always there.
Lifting my shirt, he reveals the spandex of my jeans, completely horrifying me. I scoot away, pushing my shirt down. God, it’s like he just revealed my Spanx without any warning.
“Don’t scoot away from me.” He pulls on my legs, bringing me closer to him.
“Don’t look at my pregnancy wear. Close your eyes. You should never see elastic where there should be zippers and buttons.”
Chuckling, he doesn’t listen to me. No, he lifts my shirt and pulls down on the elastic of my very stretchy jeans, revealing my little baby bump. Sitting back on his heels, his hand washes over his face, the look of sincere wonder reflected in his beautiful eyes.
Sitting up, he leans on his elbows, his arms straddling either side of me, and he brings his lips gently to my stomach where he kisses my bump. Peering at me, tears filling his eyes, he conveys with his awe-inspired look how happy he is.
Unable to control my emotions, my eyes dampen as well, watching him kiss me from the top of my belly to the bottom, his fingers lightly caressing the sides.
Even though it’s an intimate moment, the farther south he kisses, the more my body heats, the more I wiggle beneath him, looking for more, needing more.
Continuing his journey south, he brings the rest of my jeans down with him until they’re pulled off and tossed to the floor. Hands trailing back up my thighs, they stop when they reach my panties.
Eyes dark and lustful, he gives me a dangerous look. “Lace thong. Fuck, Adalyn.”
Instead of ripping it off right away, he fingers the delicate lace, testing the waistband and the edges that encase the apex between my thighs. Fingers dancing dangerously close to where I so desperately want him, my head falls to the mattress and my back arches off the bed.
I moan loud and hard when his fingers trace over my slit. I’m so wet, more wet than I ever imagine being.
“Take my thong off, please,” I beg. He does and the minute the fabric is off me, I spread my legs and place my calves over his shoulders, pulling him in close.
When I think he’s going to laugh, he doesn’t. His stare turns more dark, more serious, more intense.
Turning his head to the side, his lips graze my thigh, nipping and licking, his hands sliding under my ass, cupping each cheek in earnest, bringing my center closer to his mouth. Hovering above me, he flicks his tongue, barely passing over my wet center, a whisper of a touch.
Writhing under him, I push myself forward, hunkering my legs down so he has no place to go.
“Please,” I beg. God, I’m so turned on, so in need of release. Of him.
Hands still cupping my ass, he presses his mouth against my pussy and with one smooth stroke, moves his tongue up the valley between my legs, hitting my clit in the process.
“Yes,” I moan, my legs hooking Hayden in even closer.
Long languid strokes, his tongue plays with my arousal, keeping the same pace, the same pressure. It’s mind-blowing, intoxicating.
“More,” I demand, feeling how easily his tongue slides against me, how incredibly aroused I am.
Muttering against me, the vibrations of his voice making my stomach drop, he says, “Tastes so good. So fucking good.”
A spark of my undoing shoots up my spine, his tongue working up and down my clit, licking, kissing, sucking. Pulling it between his lips, humming—
“Oh God,” I scream, unable to hold back. I’m right there, my heart hammering in my chest, my clit pounding against his tongue, my legs starting to go numb as my stomach bottoms out on me, a ripple of pleasure tearing through me. Flicking his tongue over my clit, I convulse on him, my body jerking every which way, his grip holding me down, keeping his face firmly planted between my legs until I don’t think I can take any more.
“Please, oh God, I can’t . . .”